The Sweetest Smile and the Gentlest Hands
by msrowley
Summary: Tina helps her husband cut his unruly hair. Fluff.


Tina finally closes her book and sets it down on the nightstand, frowning slightly.

Newt was taking longer than he'd promised with the creatures this evening. It would understandably take him a bit longer to get everything sorted tonight – with his early trip the next morning, it wouldn't hurt to double check a few things. But he'd also promised to get everything done early so they could spend some quality time as a couple that night, to make up for the next three weeks they'd be spending apart.

"Newt," she calls. When no answer comes, she concludes he's still down in the basement.

Tina pushes back the covers and gets up from the bed. She immediately feels the chill of the early autumn English air in the absence of her usual pajamas, which she'd replaced for this evening with a short, dark blue silk nightgown – which, being Newt's favorite on her, wasn't meant to stay on her body for long anyway. She ties on her light blue cotton dressing gown, slips on her bedroom slippers, and pads out of the bedroom in search of her husband.

They had only been married a month, and were still in the process of refurnishing and redecorating Newt's flat into something that could better accommodate the both of them. So far, they had magically expanded the bedroom and added a wall to separate it from the kitchen and dining area, and had enlarged the formerly single-person bed and added another nightstand for Tina's side of the bed. They also added a study adjacent to the bedroom so she could do paper work at home when she needed to. Newt's own desk space remains in the basement (in addition to the one in the shed of his suitcase). Tina finds him seated there as she descends the staircase.

Normally, Newt's work desk is a mess. While Tina always stacks her own paper work neatly after she's finished, Newt has a habit of leaving his own paper work be so he could continue working from where he left off; only casting an Imperturbable Charm to keep any of the creatures from disturbing the space in his absence. His work space normally consists of previous drafts and editions of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_, years' worth of comprehensive field notes and sketches spread out on his desk, all surrounding his current draft. On top of the heap of papers, at almost any given time of the day, there would always be a cup of tea.

Tonight, however, his desk is the neatest she's ever seen it (she can actually _see_ the wooden tabletop this time) as much of the contents have been transferred to his suitcase, which sits on the far right of the table, locked and ready for the trip. As Tina reaches the bottom of the staircase, she sees that, in place of the usual mess, an old but rarely used comb (gifted many years ago by a well-meaning Theseus) rests next to Newt's wand on the wooden surface. Levitating a few inches over the table is a mirror about as wide and as long as his field journal. Newt sits in front of it, hunched forward, one hand holding a lock of his hair, and the other holding a pair of shears. Short, curly strands of his tawny hair are sprinkled on the tabletop and floor.

Most of the creatures (those that haven't been moved to the suitcase for the trip) have turned in for the night, leaving the underground sanctuary calm and quiet apart from the occasional rustle of feathers and leaves, the soft swish of the kelpie lake, and the gentle rasp of metal shears as a magizoologist snipped at his own hair.

"I'll come to bed in just a minute, love," he says somewhat absently, not looking at her as he snips the ends off a lock of hair.

"That's what you said half an hour ago," she quips, leaning against the bannister. She's known for a while that her husband cut his own hair, known it in the back of her mind ever since she'd first laid eyes on his mess of curls, but tonight was her first time to see him do it. She looks on, amused and not minding at all that Newt cut his own hair, knowing that the hair she had grown to love would not be the same if he had gone to a barber like most other men. She didn't fall in love with a man who was like most other men.

Tina frowns sympathetically when Newt pauses for a second to bend his neck left and right to soothe a crick. She walks and comes to stand behind him, then puts her hands on his shoulders. Just as she starts to rub circles with her thumbs, she notices the uneven cut of the hairs on the back of his head.

"Let me help," she says softly, eyeing the reflection of his concentrating face in the mirror. His head was bowed and he was straining to look upward at the mirror, trying to keep his eyes on the section of hair he was about to trim.

"It's fine, love, I've got it," he answers, snipping at his hair and letting the severed ends fall to the desk and floor. He sighs tiredly as he angles his head to the other side and reaches for another section.

Tina gives his shoulders a soft squeeze. "Your neck is all stiff from trying to get all the hair you can't see, and you've still got the back undone. Just let me help, please." She leans over to his side, hoping to catch his eye.

He looks up at her from his fringe, then sighs and sets the shears back on the table. He stretches his neck out from side to side, grimacing as a few joints crack. His hands move to rest over hers on his shoulders as he looks up and gives her a tired smile. "You're wonderful."

Tina smiles back and bends down to plant a soft kiss to his lips. She gives his shoulders a soft squeeze, then picks up the comb and starts to smooth out his hair.

"I've never cut anyone's hair before," she muses.

"I've been cutting my own hair since I started going to Hogwarts," Newt says as his wife brushes the comb over his fringe, wincing slightly as it caught on a tangle. "I realized early on that being away from my parents meant they couldn't force me to go to the barber's."

Tina chuckles at the image of an eleven-year-old Newt coming home for Christmas and surprising his parents with crookedly cut hair and longer fringe than normal. She'd seen photos from his school days, and his haircut then wasn't much different from how it was now.

"It's been ages since someone else has cut my hair, though at some point, even Theseus offered to do it."

Tina picks up the shears and with her other hand, gently nudges his head to bow, then considers the rather lopsided cut he'd made at the base of his head. "Well, I'm honored that you trust me," she tells him with a smile. "Anyway…I want to do this. To do something nice for my husband. Even if I've never done this before and am very likely to mess it up."

"You couldn't possibly botch it up any more than I have," Newt jokes, and she sees his boyish grin in the mirror, his eyes blocked by his floppy fringe, hanging lower with the bow of his head. "And you already do many nice things for me, Tina – not least of all was agreeing to marry me."

His words have a smile forming on her lips and a blush creeping up to her cheeks. "Well, marrying you was a nice thing for me too." She looks to the mirror again to catch his resulting smile.

Tina relished calling Newt her husband aloud, the same way she knew he relished calling her his wife. Their relationship had not always been easy – particularly in the time before their courtship had actually begun, when they'd been kept apart by miscommunication as well as distance – so to finally be married almost felt too good to be true. Lately, they'd often been referring to each other as "husband," and "wife," or "Mr./Mrs. Scamander," when speaking to each other (and sometimes they'd even sneak in those new labels in casual conversation with their respective friends and colleagues), and regardless of where they were, they would find themselves glancing at their wedding bands several times a day.

She starts, hesitantly at first, by snipping off some spots he had missed. There wasn't much left for her to do anyway – Newt had managed to trim most of his hair on his own, only having struggled with making the ends uniform from his lack of perspective. When she's straightened out the back, she moves on to the hair touching around his ears, taking great care not to ruin the general shape of his mane by trying not to cut too much length off any sections.

Newt gazes at her reflection in the mirror, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement as he watches her focused expression – her brows slightly narrowed and bottom lip caught between her teeth as her dark eyes carefully considered his hair.

Seeing that he had been able to trim most sections of his hair without her help, Tina checks again for any spots that have been missed, before coming round to stand next to him.

"I think that's it," she says, setting the shears down then dusting off bits of hair from his shoulders. "Can _anything_ be done about this?" she chuckles lightly as she gestures to his fringe.

"I'm afraid not," he answers, a playful twinkle in his eye. He picks up his wand from the table and uses it to cast a light gust of air to blow away trimmed pieces of hair from his neck, face, and shoulders.

When he finishes, he puts his wand back on the table and looks up at her with a cheeky, lopsided smile, his hair still slightly windswept. The sight is so charming Tina can't help but giggle as he takes her hands and pulls her to sit across his lap.

She drapes one arm around his neck and lets her other hand cradle his freckled cheek. He wraps his arms around her waist and leans forward to meet her halfway for a sweet kiss.

"Thank you," he murmurs when their lips part, then turns to look into the mirror. Tina follows his gaze and her smile widens as her eyes come upon their reflection – a picture of early wedded bliss – and leans further into his embrace, resting her head on the side of his face so her head was touching his cheek.

From the corner of her eye, she catches the movement of the two framed photographs on the desk. One is of her, smiling. Newt had taken it not long after they'd started courting, in the artificial sunlight of his suitcase, after she'd spent the morning helping him feed the creatures. She had been hesitant about having her picture taken, and started to brush her hair with her fingers, suddenly conscious of her appearance. But Newt held up the camera, told her with breathtaking sincerity that she was beautiful, then, right as a radiant smile appeared on her face, snapped the photograph. He has another copy of the same picture stuck to the inside of his suitcase lid. The other frame holds a photograph from their wedding day. Both of them were smiling from ear to ear, looking to each other and then at the camera, then laughing as Jacob (from outside the frame) tossed rose petals above their heads. Tina keeps a copy of that photo on her desk at the Ministry, next to a photograph she had taken of a wild-haired and dirt-stained Newt, tired but smiling widely as he nursed a newborn mooncalf.

Newt runs his fingers through his fringe a few times to brush it out of its windblown shape, but is unsuccessful in taming it any further. "You've just saved me the trouble of having to cut it on the boat, as I normally would."

Tina snorts and playfully rolls her eyes, unsurprised by this revelation. Her husband turns to face her, green eyes bright and tender. He leans forward to brush their noses together.

"Three weeks," Tina sighs, resting her forehead against his. This would be Newt's first trip since they've been married, and while they've spent much longer periods apart (especially when they were still courting), she had gotten so used to having him around for the last few months that the idea of being apart from him for three weeks was a little harder to swallow than she'd anticipated it to be.

Newt hums sympathetically before pecking her lips. Tina suddenly remembers her earlier agenda and pulls him closer, raking her fingernails over the freshly trimmed hair at the base of his head and deepening their kiss. A soft groan rumbles in Newt's chest and she smirks against his lips when she feels him tug at the belt of her dressing gown. When he's undone the tie, he breaks their kiss and pulls open her robe. Tina watches his eyes darken as he takes in the sight of her in her nightgown and her smile grows catlike. She leans in and begins to nibble on his neck.

"I'm so sorry to have kept you waiting," he sighs, the huskiness of his voice further igniting her desire. He cups one hand at the back of her head and places the other high on her thigh.

Tina chuckles against his neck and lays her hand on the one slowly inching higher up on thigh, halting its movements. "We still have time." She pulls back from him and stands, entwining their fingers then tugging him along with her as she starts towards the stairs. "Make it up to me, Mr. Scamander."

"I certainly intend to, Mrs. Scamander," he breathes as he comes to stand. With his free hand, he reaches for his wand on the table and gives one wave so that the mirror sets down softly on the desk, and then another so that the basement lights dim, all the while letting his wife lead him out of the basement.

As walks two steps below her, their hands still clasped, he smiles to himself. How on earth had he gotten so lucky? He looks up at her in time to catch her turn to look at him, her dark eyes smiling invitingly. He lifts their entwined hands and keeps their gazes locked so he can see her blush when he places a soft kiss to her knuckles. It amazes him to no end that he could make her feel that way (the same way she made him feel), and part of the joy of showering her with affection was in rediscovering the effect he has on her.

Tina tugs on his hand with just a little more force and walks up the stairs faster, her eyes twinkling as she beamed at him. With a matching grin, Newt speeds up his own steps as he follows her up the stairs and into their bedroom, where they intend to make the most of their remaining evening together.

* * *

_**This story was inspired by something Eddie Redmayne said in an interview for the first **_**Fantastic Beasts**_** movie. Fae Hammond, head of hair and makeup, told him Newt would cut his own hair, so she put a wig on Eddie, put him in a dark room with a pair of kitchen scissors, and told him to cut the wig himself while pretending he was on a moving boat.**_

_**As always, thank you for reading, and please let me know what you think!**_


End file.
